Ethereal Chronicles

Jonas and Vera were still early in the tender closeness of their married life when, one day, Vera discovered something forgotten at the threshold of their cottage. Judging by its intricate carvings and the glint of gold trim, it must have belonged to someone of great wealth, though the glass within had greatly faded.

Vera had brought it into their home, awaiting Jonas’ weary return to tell him the news. Jonas searched the surrounding woods for some sign of who might have left it, but he found nothing, no soul in sight.

So Jonas told Vera to keep the mirror, as a perpetual reminder of her beauty.

Vera was delighted by Jonas’ decision, accepting the mirror gratefully and placing it in the quiet corner of their bedroom. That evening, she sat gazing into its reflection, tenderly polishing the golden frame until it glinted invitingly.

The following morning, Jonas prepared to leave for the nearby village, intending to trade as he always did. Vera kissed him before he made his way, and warned him to take care.

The day stretched long. Jonas spent hours showing his wares, exchanging words with passing faces that held little meaning. Now and then his mind allowed the occasional wander, and he briefly wondered if the mysterious gift giver might be nearby. But he doubted it. The people of the village, like he and Vera, were poor and destitute, each earning enough just to scrape by.

By dusk Jonas gathered his belongings and began the walk home. But as he neared the cottage, he noticed the familiar glow that usually spilled from the windows into the hush of the surrounding wood was not there, their home instead cloaked in a strange darkness.

Fear rising in his throat, Jonas hurried to the door, throwing it open. “Vera? Where are you?” he called out.

There was no answer to his call, so Jonas blindly made his way through the darkened kitchen to the bedroom, where a faint, metallic light seemed to glow.

Inside, Vera sat hunched over, blankly staring into the soft luminescence of the mirror.

Jonas dropped his things and crouched beside her, placing a hand on her cold shoulder. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

At his touch, Vera jolted as if woken from a trance. She looked around, confused.

“It’s so dark in here. How can it be night already? I only just sat down…” She trailed off, raising a hand to her temple.

Gently, Jonas helped her to her feet. “Perhaps you need some rest,” he murmured tenderly. “We both work so hard.”

Vera made no reply. She simply moved to crawl into bed. Jonas followed, sitting beside her to offer what comfort he could. It did not take long for them both to fall into deep sleep.

The following morning, the two awoke together. The sun bled into the room, and Vera’s confusion from the night before seemed to have passed. When Jonas questioned her about it, she only frowned, appearing to not remember it at all.

When it came time for him to leave again, she kissed him at the door, promising that they would see each other in the evening.

What Jonas did not know was that while Vera went about her usual chores that day – sweeping, washing, tending to the small garden – strange voices began to echo from the bedroom as she did so. Though faint at first, they grew louder as the daylight climbed and louder still when night approached.

By the time the sun had slipped below the horizon, Vera found herself drawn to the mirror once more, compelled to sit before it.

The mirror spoke to Vera in a soft, strange language that was quite unknown to her, and to any of mankind. Yet she found solace in its oddity, beauty in the glow of the glass as it swirled and shimmered before her eyes.

Jonas returned later than he had expected that night, finding the cottage once again steeped in darkness. Quiet dread crept in as he made his way towards the bedroom.

Vera sat before the mirror, her head rested against the glass. She did not respond to his calls, so Jonas lifted her into his arms, and lay her down to rest on the bed.

The following morning, Jonas voiced his concerns to Vera. “Perhaps I should stay at home today,” he said gently. “Take care of you.”

But Vera would not hear of it, again dismissing his worries. “I was likely tired, my dear. Go on to work, and I will be waiting for you when you return.”

Reluctantly, Jonas once again withdrew to the nearby village. But though his day was filled with trade and conversation, his thoughts remained with Vera. He left for home before the light of day ceased, suspecting that Vera would not be waiting as she had promised.

To his surprise, however, Jonas returned to find Vera laying food upon the table. She greeted him with softness, and they ate together, though she said very little with distant eyes, and retired to bed early. Jonas followed not long after, slipping into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

He awoke again in the early hours of the morning to the sound of low whimpering.

Startled, he sat up and turned towards the source of the sound. Vera stood in the corner of the room with her hands pressed against the glass of the mirror, trying to pull herself away. Her arms trembled, stuck fast, as if the mirror refused to let her go.

Jonas scrambled from bed to her side, moving to loosen her grip, but when she turned to look at him a fresh horror seized him; her eyes were glassed over in milky white, glaring blindly into his own.

Jonas pried Vera’s hands from the glass and tugged her away. Then, heart pounding, he turned to the mirror, intending to smash it.

But Vera let out a cry so raw, so filled with despair, Jonas could not bring himself to do so. Instead he held her close for the rest of the night, until sleep touched his eyelids.

By morning, Vera looked ordinary again, and had forgotten the strangeness that held her just hours before.

Jonas did not leave the house that day. Instead he made his work the garden, tending to the vegetables they had planted in the spring. He felt more at ease in his closeness to Vera, knowing that he was nearby should his help be needed. 

The day wore on slowly. Jonas worked beneath the shifting light until the sun sank low in the sky. Then, wiping his hands clean, he returned inside to check on Vera.

She was in the kitchen, leaning over a pot by the fire. She said nothing when Jonas entered, no word of love or move of embrace, but simply continued to stir. When she finally straightened, she moved across the room with a slow, almost mechanical grace. Taking out a cloth, she began to lay it across the table.

“Do you need help?” Jonas asked softly, concerned that she might be unwell. But Vera gave no reply. She did not seem to hear him at all.

She moved to spread the cloth across the wood, turning her body to Jonas as she did so. When the last light of the setting sun streamed through the window and open door, casting its glow across her face, Jonas gasped in horror.

There was no sign of the woman he loved standing before him. Instead stood a strange thing, shaped like her and dressed in her clothes, yes, but featureless. No trace of God’s handiwork marked its skin, not even a crease or a blemish. It was a hollow, incomplete imitation—a soulless echo of Vera.

For a moment Jonas stood frozen, watching as the thing moved from the table and back towards it, carrying bowls filled with stew. As it set them down, some of the scalding liquid dropped down its finger, yet it did not flinch.

Whatever it was, it was not Vera. Jonas went out into the garden to take a large rock in his hand, before striding into the bedroom where the mirror stood.

With little hesitation, he brought the rock crashing down upon the glass.

Glass cracked and splintered across the floor, showering Jonas with sharp fragments that cut into his skin. Once the glittering cascade had fallen to the ground, a blood curdling scream roared from the kitchen, followed by a dull, sickening thud.

Immediately, Jonas rushed back out to see what had happened.

And there, crumpled on the ground, lay Vera.

A pool of fresh blood spread beneath her. Her true face had returned, but it was marred by a web of deep, red lines, as though her skin itself had been fractured. The cuts stretched across her entire body, mirroring the cracks of broken glass.